Reading to the Girlies...

Well...I've been pretty quiet blog-wise for a couple of weeks. No real reason. On March 11th (the day of the Japanese Tsunami) I flew to Arizona to get Grandma...and then she and I packed up her car and came on back home. So she's with us again for the summer and you know that means that I hafta play with her all the time. Poor, poor, pitiful me...I have a ready playmate...and dishwasher...and driving buddy...and babysitter...such a life, I tell ya ;). Still it does cut down on my interest in blogging. Cest la vie.

But I learned a new trick today, so I thought I'd share.

I've been looking for a way to post audio for a long time. There is SO much that we do on mp3 these days...MOSTLY reading.

It's a fun way to hand a kid a break. If someone is in the middle of a story that's a little too hard for them...I like to read a chapter and stick in on their MP3 player for them. If we need to read a book for a class or for church and we are having a hard time all being together at the same time, I'll read and record and make a CD or put it on their MP3 players.

Anyway...this morning, because we just finished a book, Beanie said, "Hey mom, could we read "Where the Red Fern Grows"? I happened to be sitting here next to my computer...and actually had it's mic all set up...and decided to just record what we were doing...reading, eating, shushing, etc. Like a bolt from the blue it occurred to me that all these months I've been looking for "posting audio online" when I SHOULDA be looking for "free podcast posting"...well, duh!

After everyone left the table I did a little googling...found SEVERAL free podcast sites...and ba da bing...audio on line...finally. I wish that all my synapses fired ALL the time...but at least I can be thankful that EVENTUALLY something will strike me...at least so far.

So anyway...if you are interested...here are the first two chapters of "Where the Red Fern Grows" by Wilson Rawls as I read them to my girls while they ate their lunch this afternoon. If you listen you will discover that I'm not a particularly gifted reader-alouder...but if I DO continue the story online, you are BOUND to catch me crying. Always look for the silver lining. ;)

Where the Red Fern Grows, Chapter 1 - (a little over 10 minutes) it starts a little quiet but I must've shifted around because it gets louder somewhere just after the title. Live and learn, dontcha know.

Where the Red Fern Grows, Chapter 2 - (just shy of 16 minutes) Monkey Face had decided that eating was not really her thing, so there is some shushing and snapping...just keepin it real.

See ya around...

Irony...

So...really...I usually have good stuff in my grocery bag...and usually I just use my cloth bags or they give me plastic.

But this morning...a morning that all I needed was supplies for a birthday cake and a personal hygiene item...THIS is the bag I got...



FAIL!

made me laugh...

See ya around...

HAIR - Vindication.

What may not be well known to those of you who know me only electronically...or have only known me as an adult...is that I'm REALLY not that into hair.



I know. I'm a girl. Hair and shoes are supposed to matter. Bubba has more shoes that he ACTIVELY wears on a day to day basis than I do...probably 3 times as many pairs. And, until the last 2 years, HE has always used more hair product (except conditioner) on a day to day basis than I.

Here's the deal...I was BORN with Barbie-Quick-Grow hair...case in point...


Yep...there I am, somewhere under 6 months old with more hair than most 2 year olds possess. (We won't speak of the hive on my mother's head.)

Because of this hair-o-mine...I've always known that ANY haircut...any style that I could dream will be short-lived...even if I liked it...but especially if I hated it.

A few more examples for your viewing pleasure...

My senior picture...


Some weeks, maybe months, later for my senior group shot...I'd gone even blonder...I'm the girl with the sunglasses center frame...


Round about this very bleached time, I put blue gel in my hair for a spirit day at school, not realizing that my very dark hair, when bleached very blond, would become a straw and suck up all that blue...and it would keep blue-ish green streaks until my mother took pity on me and got my hair reverse-weaved. I have no pictures of that traumatic event...Although the memory of the BLEACHING gives my brother joy to this moment.

I've had LOOOOOOOOONG hair and short hair...actually, I had shorter hair than Bubba when we met...


I'd had straight (that's how it grows out of my head) and curly...


So when I had three daughters, I realized that it was possible that at least ONE of them would have some wild hair...and I should probably figure out how I feel about it...so here are my rules about hair for my kids.

1.) If I have to DO your hair...it has to be long enough for a piggy tale...and what's more, I'd prefer you keep your hair outta your face so I have scissors and I will cut bangs before you are big enough to tell me not tah.

2.) Once you are big enough to do your OWN hair...you should do it how you like it. If you decide to cut it...I don't want to hear a single word. NOT one. You chose it. If you don't like it...it'll grow. If you would like a very expensive style...save up...hair styles cost money.

3.) I will continue to do your hair for you upon request for special occasions, but should never EVER be expected to have to support your style with egg products (for instance a particularly large mohawk).

4.) You may color your hair any old color that you choose, so long as you pay for it yourself...I only provide temporary spray for whimsy and special occasions. If you do not LIKE your hair color. NOT one word. See number 2

5.) If I HAVE something to say about a particular style...you really REALLY should consider my experience before you disdain my advice...

Because WHEN you and I discuss how incredibly uncomfortable the Justin-Bieber-long-bangs-that-push-to-the-side-style would be...and I say something WISE like, "That's gonna bug you...and get greasy from you pushing them out of your face...and feel like there are bugs crawling on you."...and you disregard me...When, later, you say, "Mom, my bangs are really bugging me, could you trim them?"...I will mock you.

See ya around...

Greetings from the Frigid...errrr...South.

I know I know...typical Stack...don't post for MONTHS and then post too much.

No excuses...I must bow to my nature...some call it a muse...I'm just inspired in spurts and there is nothing for it but to write when I WANNA and NOT when I don't. Movin right along.

So, I don't know if anyone else noticed but this has been a CRAZY week, climate-wise. Seriously on Saturday and Sunday, we girls were out hooping in the very warm weather...short sleeves...Monkey-Face even had to change into shorts and sandals...she, apparently, has hot feet.

Monday we went to a friend's house and it was your standard February jacket/jeans weather...but we played outside...with bunnies...and horses (more on that in the next post)...

Now we KNEW it was going to get cold and we were going to have some "Wintry Mix" precipitation...which, at least since I've lived in Texas means some mixture of water and ICE...it's always got ice in it...sometimes big ole hail...sometimes little crystally stuff...but ICE is involved. But I was not prepared for what we got.

It SOUNDED like being in a Sonic ice machine...(to those of you outside of an area that Sonic has stores...I'm sorry...and they have the best ice ever...it's teeny tiny little barrels of ice that are fabulous for chewing). When the storm rolled in it actually rattled and sounded like the house was being pummled with those itty bitty chunks...and then we could hear it sliiiiiide off the roof. Very interesting. And LOUD. I was up, pretty much the whole storm.

So I got up KNOWING that we were going to have piles of ice and frozen stuff all over...I mean, this is not my first rodeo, y'know?

Yeah.

I was wrong. What we actually had was an ice rink...a HUGE, impenetrable, thick, slippery ice rink.

AND it was CaCaCaCold...it sat at about 18 degrees most of the day and dipped to 12 degrees by my bedtime. (To those of you who live in Colorado, or Canada, or Wisconsin who are thinking, "18 Degrees is nuthin, ya big baby...it was -23 with a wind chill that made it feel like -207"...I have this to say...if you CHOSE to live in Colorado or Canada or WISCONSIN...you bought your ticket, baby! I live in the SOUTH and the south has done me wrong this week. There.)

So what did that mean? Well, Bubba stayed home...he has a laptop...easy enough.

And the girls played...



Check out the frozen rings left by the hoops...very cool...


I think the most fascinating thing was that WE made no impact on that ice...no footprints...no noticeable trace of where we went or fell (ehem)...

So that was Tuesday, right? Well Wednesday stayed REALLY cold...Bubba started getting a little stir crazy...SO...using salt and a pitch fork, he hacked his way to the concrete on his side of the driveway (tossing the extra chunks onto my side of the driveway...who says chivalry is dead?) and managed to get OUT and buy us Chinese food for lunch, for which I was thankful. And Thursday, he actually went to work.

But wait, there's more.

This morning, we woke up to this...


Yeah...easily 6 inches of snow by 8 am and prolly closer to 8 to 10 now, at 4 ish...on TOP of 2 inches of ice. Um...Bubba was grounded again.

But the girls played...


And I STEPPED in it...just for you, dear reader...I'm a giver...


But I can't say that I've had the best attitude about it. For some reason, just KNOWING that I can't go anywhere makes me REALLY want to. It's possible I need to work on contentment. I do find myself saying, "Ah...that's pretty"...but I have ZERO desire to play in it...brrrrr.

And the other irritating part...it BROKE my little green house...that I put out not expecting REALLY freezing temperatures to last for days and days...


And I can't tell through the iced over plastic if anything survived cuz I'm afraid that unzipping it will REALLY break it...and release whatever magic heat might be in there so I'm forced to take pictures through the frost...


It LOOKS kinda green in there...of course so did my aloe plant that I accidentally left outside during a frost a couple years ago...it looked really green...until it melted...and then it sorta looked like an olive colored octopus...it did not survive.

At this moment, it's warmer than it has been all week...a WHOPPING 26 degrees...I might even consider taking off my second pair of socks...it's THAT warm. And there is stuff dripping off of the roof that I can only assume is water...but I'm not really getting my hopes up.

See ya around...

February 3, 2011...One Year Without My Dad.

Huh. This one is long.

I've been thinking about this particular blog post for awhile. What do I say? My sentimental nature doesn't let me let it pass by without comment...but what.should.I.say?

This has been an incredible year. Really. In all my years so far...it has been the hardest I've passed.

This is the year I lost my dad...and late in this year I realized that I'd actually lost 7 friends/family in 18 months.

This is the year I grieved with my mom.

This is the year that I've had the most health struggles, whooping cough, broken rib, unexplained fatigue, heart freak-outs, girlie stuff and that doesn't include health issues with my kids.

This is the year that Bubba and I have struggled the most to find each other and actually considered what might happen if we couldn't.

This is the year we experienced the heartbreak of leaving a church that we loved.

But you know what...as hard as this year has been...I think I've witnessed more miracles and joys specifically from the Lord than I ever have before.

When Dad died, I got to be part of an incredible community of friends and family the week of the memorial. We had somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 family members join us in Arizona from all over the United States and an entire town full of people who had loved my Dad surrounding us and praying with us and loving us. I made friends that week that I will never ever lose...friends that love me and my family and pray for me and my family that I only met because of that terrible moment that I had to lose my dad.

Because of the loss of so many of my loved ones, I've had to face God and decide whether I would follow Him even through this. There were times even I wasn't sure which way I would go. God has truly been my support in so many ways while these tragedies changed me irrevocably. Even so my faith feels more solid than it has been in my entire life.

This year of grieving has been so precious. I've gotten to know my mom so much more deeply through all of this. I've been blessed to be the strong one sometimes and the weak one at others. I've been allowed to wrap my arms around my mommy and just cry. And I've been blessed to laugh with her until my sides hurt. This has made us better friends and sisters in Christ than we ever have been. And I am blessed each day by the bond.

This year of health problems has been interesting. I'm learning to live inside my limitations. I learning not to plan for tomorrow, but to do exactly what I can today. I'm learning to let the mess roll off my back. I'm learning to pull my kids close and just hold them even if I can't do anything else.

I've worried for years about not doing everything that people think that I should...I'm learning to just get over it. And I'm learning to say, "No, I don't think so" and "I can help you so long as you realize that sometimes I won't be able to help you and can live with that." and the hardest, "I know that you think I'm good at that...but I don't think it's a good idea right now".

I don't know, anymore, that I'll ever be up to snuff again. I pray that I will, but for the first time ever, I'm done FIGHTING and have started accepting. That's not to say that I'm ready to roll over and die...but the stress when I can't FIX it is leaving me finally. And honestly, I think it's good for me.

During this tough stuff, Bubba and I struggled. A LOT. But the Lord provided us a marriage conference that has opened up topics that BOTH of us have been stuffing for years. It has allowed a level of openness and honesty that we haven't had in a long time. And even more than that, God has given us both understanding and opened our hearts to grace and mercy for one another. We aren't out of the woods yet...but for the first time, in a long time, we are both trudging in the same direction.

Leaving our long time church back in March was one of the most difficult steps of this year...But God had an amazing plan for us. He had been preparing a different church for us. He had brought them to the area...He had established several of our long term friends IN the church...and He found them a BUILDING in February...just in time for our arrival. ;)

Within two weeks of being at the new church, we knew we were home. There was no uneasy search. The kids were comfortable immediately which was unlike our last church hunt. I think the most amazing part of it all for me was how much I hadn't realized what I'd needed, until God pulled us through those doors.

Through this new church, we have a community, unlike any we've ever experienced before. We have a small group of people who we meet with weekly who have made us one of the family in a way that has been missing in all of our church experiences. Missing church is the biggest disappointment of our week, and I have to say that has never been the case before. Through this group, we are making friends as a family and it is very sweet.

We also have a counselor that has been really helpful to Bubba and I. We didn't know, when we left our old church, that we would need a counselor...but God did.

As I look back on this year that I was forced to live without my Daddy...I realize that I am blessed. I would not have chosen this path...not for a million bucks!! And I wouldn't have WISHED this path on my worst enemy. But this path was chosen for me...and I followed it ONLY because the Lord held my hand the entire way...

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Jeremiah 29:11


I always THOUGHT I believed that before...now I KNOW that I do.

See ya around...

Pie in a Jar...oh MY!

A few weeks ago I came across this fabulous idea on the internet. Pie in a jar...Let me say that again...PIE...in a JAR!

Now, it's possible this concept is not as exciting to you as it is to me, dear reader...but seriously WHAT could be better? Especially as regards PIE? Let me convince you...Pie in a jar means more kinds of PIE, without having to try to STORE those pies. Pie in a jar means individual servings that I don't have to cut and try to put neatly on a plate. But even MORE exciting, pie in a jar means that the crust to pie filling ratio is greatly increased and that the eater of said pie gets the crispy edge bits ALL.the.way.around. Go ahead, take a minute and let THAT fantasy sink in.

From a strictly custodial standpoint...Pie in a Jar means that the baker of the pies can prepare the pies WELL in advance...slap a lid on them and freeze them in their little buckets of joy...and then pull them out days later (maybe WEEKS later)...take the lids off...fling 'em on a cookie sheet covered in tin foil...and bake them...no muss no fuss.

As is my custom, I found this idea...posted it on Facebook...and then promptly forgot about it for awhile. So when I remembered it the other day, just in time to make some for a gathering that's happening Friday, I decided it must be fate. I started rummaging through my supplies and found that I had enough of everything to make about 6 of these little babies...so I gathered the girls and I gathered the stuff an then...

We had a defugalty when one of our 6 jars went skidding across the counter and onto the floor. No matter...I run on munchkin power and they had it fixed...well, cleaned up...in a jiffy...


So onward and forward...first the pie crust must be smooshed (technical term - write that one down) into the jar and the edges prettied up. (This was gonna be a pecan pie, so no upper crust, in an upper crust situation the edges would need to be crimped...this was really just putting a pattern on the upper part so that it would crisp to perfection).


And then the pie guts poured in...


And then BAKED.


No, really look at this beautiful creation...


SO good.

Now, things I will do differently on the next batch...well, I'll follow this tutorial at Our Best Bites for getting the dough INTO the jars...we did this batch by cutting circles in the dough and stuffing it all in there...I think they have a better idea...

I also used a different pecan pie recipe. Bear has 'issues' with corn syrup, so I made this with all honey...and it was good, make no mistake...but a little too cloying in an already REALLY rich dessert.

If you google "pie in a jar", and I really think that you should, you'll find that I didn't fill mine as full as many folks are doing...I did that on purpose. The best part of this for me is the transport option, so I wanted to be able to put the lid on them, both before and after baking because I don't want to have to figure out how to transport glass cupcakes (essentially)...I want them to stay jars. I mean really, won't these be great on the Girly Trip? But if you like the poofy crunchy ones that you don't have to cart around, by all means, fill it to overflowing.

Now...I have to go. I have a bunch of these to make...because, well, we HAD to eat all of those for quality assurance purposes. You understand.

See ya around...

Geeeee-tarrrr....

Ah the Guitar!  I love the guitar.

Now, make no mistake...I do not PLAY the guitar.  As a person who sings, but has no particular talent for instruments, (although I can honk a mean pitch pipe, if I do say so myself.) I have ALWAYS loved the guitar...or rather "the guy with the guitar" who would show up places so that I could sing along.

I don't know for certain what my first memory of "the guy with the guitar" was...but I will tell you that by the time I was 9 or 10, I had a friend whose Dad always threw those parties where "the guy with the guitar" would show up. As these parties happened at least monthly, I had a lot of exposure. To this day, my musical tastes are affected by those folksy ballads.

Now, my Dad was one of those "guys with a guitar" for a good portion of my childhood.  My Dad was a pretty interesting person, musically.  Never really trained...I'm not positive that he didn't have piano lessons as a little kid but nothing beyond that...but give him a piano and he could pick out anything.  Sometime in the late 1970s, he got "into" the guitar.

He played and played and played until, just like the piano, he could pick out anything.  So, when, at about 9 years old, I WANTED a guitar, he was ALL over it.  Got me a little guitar...got me lessons...sat next to me and played...showed me how to tune the guitar to itself...all kinds of things.  I specifically remember learning to play "Peaceful, Easy Feeling".

But then, I stopped.  I don't remember any major life changing event the made me stop...my memories of the guitar just fade away.  By the time I was 12, I KNOW I was not playing at all because I remember watching a friend who really COULD play and thinking, "Wish I could play..."  And it's pretty much been that way ever since.

Somewhere along the way, where the guitars went was lost on me.  Guitars are not like pianos...pianos are REALLY hard to move and get rid of...guitars...not so much.  All I knew was that we'd HAD guitars in Pennsylvania and Florida, but by the time we got to California, we didn't have them anymore.

Now, my dad had been making noise for about 2 years about wanting to get a guitar again...but he hadn't been able to find a nice enough cheap one.  Christmas of 2008, mom and I found a little guitar ornament...with the promise that we WOULD find one.  By Christmas of 2009, I'd found one.  Costco had a little Fender on sale for $99...so I got one for our family and mom and I went in together and got one for Dad.

You should have seen my dad with that guitar.  It was a complete surprise.  He was SHOCKED...And completely entranced.  With the opening of the guitar, we lost him for the next couple of hours.  He sat there and plucked...and strummed and tuned and plucked some more.  He was re-figuring out all the songs he used to know and trying out all the chords he'd forgotten.  I honestly don't think that I've seen him THAT excited about a gift someone else gave him, and I was SO happy.

His excitement really struck a fire in us...and we practiced and practiced and were starting to get calluses on our fingers...

As for Dad, he took the guitar home and continued playing until February, when he died...

That guitar was the first thing that I saw when I walked into the RV after arriving in Arizona after his death.

I don't want to lose this post to the melancholy into which it seems to be headed...because for the most part, this will not be melancholy...but I wanted to be clear WHY we quit playing for awhile.

During the week that we were in Arizona for his memorial, the guitar played another role.  See, my cousin came.  Now I hadn't seen my cousin in 13-15 years...but it turned out that he had something from Dad.  Dad had given my cousin our guitars some 20 years before, so he showed up with my Dad's guitar from my childhood...and the guitar my little 9 year old self played.  It was pretty cool...and pretty gut wrenching...and memory jogging.

My brother and I had a great time playing with those guitars.  He got to hear the story of our Christmas gift.  He had a few stories of his own.  And I shared the teeny tiny bit that I'd learned at that point...



When it was time to go home, Uncle BakerMan and I had decided that he would take Dad's old guitar and I would take my little-girl-guitar and the one we'd bought Dad at Christmas...that would give me 3 for the 3 girls so that we could play.

Right.

Well, as I said...the guitar has played a pretty big role in my life this last 9 months.  Thankfully, we had to wait until April, when mom got here, for Dad's guitars...but our guitar was sitting right where I'd left it, in my bedroom.  Can't tell you how many times I just sat there and looked at it.  Can't tell you how many times I told one girl or another, "Not right now" and sadly, even scolded them for strumming it while it stood on it's stand.  Can't tell you how many times I've grieved while I watched the dust collect.

Last week was actually a really hard guitar week.  I wished that I knew how to play it over and over because then I could take it camping.  I mean, what could be better than a girl, a guitar and a campfire?

So, this week I made a decision. For crying out loud...how is a dusty guitar a "good" memory of my Dad? So I took them ALL out...dusted them off...found a place to put them RIGHT OUT in plain site. AND.


And, I started the girls learning the teeny tiny bit that I know.  And played a little myself.

Time for some new memories...

Some of them a little wistful...


Some of them downright funny...


All of them linked SO HARD in my mind.

Miss you, Daddy.

See ya around...